"They did. But they also owned gold as well. They appear to have held it in rather high esteem."
I handed the plate back to Emily. "So, what do the hieroglyphics say?"
"Enough to convince me this was a worthwhile investment," she replied.
I gave her a curious look. "What kind of company is Arclyon?"
"We invest in highly complex, unusual projects."
"Such as?"
"Mostly little-studied protosciences like oneirology, artificial intelligence, and astrobiology. We pride ourselves on being ahead of the pack."
"Why is a firm like yours interested in some old gold plates?"
"Have you ever heard of Ayahuasca?"
I shook my head.
"It's a hallucinogenic drink. For hundreds of years, shamans in the Amazon have used it to cure all sorts of diseases."
"Sounds like a scam to me," Graham said.
"It's not. Ayahuasca works. It kills worms and tropical parasites. It also induces vomiting and diarrhea, which expels still more parasites."
I smiled. "I bet it's a blast at parties."
"In its best-known form, Ayahuasca is brewed by boiling two separate plants. This creates a mixture containing a powerful hallucinogenic known as DMT along with a secondary substance that orally activates it. The plants only work in synergistic fashion. So, how did ancient people know to use those two specific plants, out of the more than eighty thousand catalogued plants living in the Amazon Jungle?"
"Luck?"
"No one knows. But somehow, they figured it out." She looked around at the trees. "The Amazon doesn't have a monopoly on natural resources. I believe there are lots of remedies in this jungle, just waiting to be discovered. They could save millions of lives."
Her true intentions started to dawn on me. "And make you a lot of money too."
"Yes, that too. Does that bother you?"
"No. But it might bother the locals. They tend to frown on biopiracy."
"I'm not a biopirate. I'm a bioprospector."
Beverly gave her a skeptical look. "What's the difference?"
"Biopirates gather knowledge from indigenous people and use it to develop products. But I'm not interested in current knowledge. I'm interested in lost knowledge."
"What kind of lost knowledge?" Graham asked.
"Ancient Maya shamans were masters of the Lacandon Jungle. Over the course of many centuries, I believe they discovered dozens of natural remedies using widely scattered medicinal plants and herbs. If Hope's diary is correct, that information should still be available today."
"In what form?"
"Ancient books written by the Classic Maya civilization. All their secrets, all their history." She gave me a sly grin. "In other words, I'm searching for the lost Library of the Mayas."
Chapter 18
"That's impossible," I sputtered. "The conquistadors destroyed all the old Maya texts."
"Actually, it was Bishop Diego de Landa," Miranda said. "He burned more than forty Maya codices back in 1562 during his Inquisition. Only three of them escaped the flames, possibly four if you count the Grolier Codex."
"There you go. The books are gone."
"Those books are gone," Emily said. "But according to the etchings Hope copied from the tomb, the Library of the Mayas was hidden centuries before the Spanish arrived in the New World. More specifically, around 830 AD, the twilight of the Classic Maya civilization."
My heart pumped faster. "The library … it's not written on paper, is it?"
Emily shook her head. "We believe the Mayas wrote their knowledge on the gold plates Hope saw after his crash."
"He mentioned six hundred and seventy-six plates," Miranda added. "That's not a lot of books by today's standards, but it dwarves the amount of available Classic Maya material. Along with medical knowledge, the library will hopefully contain a first-hand account of the collapse."
"So, the books aren't in the sarcophagus." I glanced at the sealed-up tomb. "That means they're still down there."
Emily frowned. "That's not what I wanted to hear."
"Didn't you take pictures of the chamber?" Beverly asked Miranda.
Miranda nodded.
"You should look them over. Maybe you'll see the plates."
"Good idea." Miranda produced her camera. Quickly, she scanned through the photos.
"So, what kind of deal did you work out with the Mexican authorities?" I asked Emily. "They get the library and you get a cut of the profits?"
"Actually, they don't know about the library," she replied. "And they won't until I've got it under lock and key."
"You didn't tell them?"
"Please try to understand." She wiped a single bead of sweat from her brow. "I have a deep passion for history. However, this is a business venture first and foremost. Billions of dollars — along with potential cures for millions of people — are at stake. I can't expect the INAH to understand that."
I could see her quandary. Most archaeologists I knew lived in a bubble, largely divorced from the realities faced by businesspeople. They didn't spend their own money. They weren't required to show profits. And most importantly, their livelihoods didn't depend on progress.
Indeed, archaeologists hated progress. Progress meant newness. New roads, new buildings, new parking lots. Things that destroyed history. If anything, archaeologists were biased toward stagnation.
"Where do you plan on taking it?" I asked.
"To the United States. But I can assure you it will only be on a temporary basis. Once I'm done with it, I'll—"
"We found something," Pacho shouted.
Miranda swiveled toward him. "What is it?"
"It's a large gold plate, crimped on one side. It looks like a good fit for Hope's piece."
"Did you find any others?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Where is it?"
"Still in the sarcophagus. But Tum took a good picture of it." He handed Miranda a compact camera.
Miranda studied the image for a few seconds. "It's engraved," she said in a hushed voice. "The entire surface is covered with hieroglyphics."
"Yup. The Maneros are translating them as we speak." He pointed at the camera. "Increase the magnification on that section."
Miranda manipulated the controls. "Okay, I see two pictures etched onto the plate. One is a pyramid. The other looks like a pair of domes."
Emily arched an eyebrow. "Do you recognize the pyramid?"
"No. But these domes are curious. They're divided into little sections, all covered with tiny hieroglyphics." Miranda's face tightened. "I don't think Hope actually saw gold plates. He just saw this old drawing of them."
Emily visibly deflated.
"He must've thought there was something to the drawing," I said. "Otherwise, why would he want to come back here?"
"You're right," Miranda said slowly. "Hope didn't find the Library of the Mayas. But maybe he found proof of its existence."
Chapter 19
"I got your message." The disembodied voice echoed in Miranda's ear. "Needless to say, I'm impressed you were able to track down my number. You're more resourceful than I realized."
Sweat dripped down Miranda's face, wetting her lips. She licked them and tasted salty grit. More sweat beaded up on her forehead. Lifting a hand, she swiped it away. But it didn't help matters. Her pores produced perspiration faster than she could deal with it.
"Your offer intrigues me," the voice continued. "But how do I know I can trust you?"
The line clicked as the recording came to an end. Miranda turned off the satphone. She didn't like being so far from the dig site. But she couldn't very well listen to the message out in the open.